Rating: M/NC-17 for violence, language and lemons

Disclaimer: All hail Stephanie Meyer who owns all Twilight characters, and all not-so-veiled Twi-references and bastardized quotes. Me? I own what's left.

All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is my intellectual property.

Unconditionally's official wussperv rating for Chapter 12 is: 100% wussperv safe and approved. As I first warned in Chapter 11, things will not always be so safe, warm, and fuzzy for this crew. Consider yourselves warned.

I'm going to break my minimal opening a/n rule again, and for good reason. For all of you who are still reading and reviewing after my extended hiatus, I am humbled by the support and understanding that you've extended me. More than that, I am overwhelmed at how excited you are that we are rolling along again. You are the best readers! Thank you so much for all the love and support!

BPOV

I finish drying my hair leaving it long and loose, and slip into my favorite midnight blue, cashmere, vintage wrap dress. Alice picked it up for me on one of her shopping extravaganzas insisting that my closet simply would not be complete without such a classic. Alice is right. That Diane Von Furstenberg knew what she was doing. The cashmere feels fabulously soft against my skin, and as I inspect my reflection, while I take a bit more time with my make-up, I realize that I look and feel great tonight. Everything has come together so well. It feels like it's going to be a good night.

As I dress, I'm distracted by thoughts of T-squared, and how helpful he's been this afternoon. Despite being constantly underfoot, he really did manage to make himself helpful in the kitchen. As much as I'd steeled myself to despise him, I am finding that in spite of our communication challenges, hating him is proving to be more difficult than I'd imagined. Especially when he smells so delicious, and smirks at me in that way that he does. I suppose that won't be so horrible to endure. Head in the game, Bella. I am not allowed to fuck my new field partner senseless, no matter how delicious he smells, or how adorable his fucking smirk is! That would be incredibly unprofessional and highly inappropriate. This shall be my mantra.

Silencing my inner chatter, I glare at the lovely navy death traps that Alice had proudly presented me along with the dress. She claimed that every woman simply had to own at least one pair of Louboutin's, and this dress screamed out to be paired with them. What-the-fuck-ever. I'd rather wear sneakers, but it's simply not worth the public flogging that Alice would mete out should I dare. Truth be told, this dress and these shoes are a perfect match. What's a little foot torture, anyway? I can always kick them off when I'm in the kitchen.

I add my trademark jewelry, being sure that the rings are hidden underneath the neckline of my dress. I slip into my shoes, and head back up to the penthouse.

When I reach Emmett's place, I am quite startled to hear the sound of the baby grand piano has replaced the sound of my ipod party playlist on the other side of the door.

EPOV

With Bella off presumably dressing for the party, and all the preparations for the dinner completed, I am left a little at loose ends. Not really knowing Special Agent McCarty, I don't wish to intrude on his privacy, not that any of them had been here long enough to have settled in and made themselves at home. When we delivered the groceries yesterday, I noticed the baby grand in the corner, and wondered if Emmett plays, or if it is just a coincidence of renting a furnished flat.

I figure I can kill some time at the piano, sit down, and set into Bach's Little Prelude in C major to warm up, and after a minute or so, switch over to his Sleeper's Wake, and then onto a favourite Chopin etude. Esme forced music lessons onto Tanya and me from a very young age. Fortunately, for us, we both seemed to enjoy them, and have a bit of talent. Tanya favoured the violin over piano, but I always enjoyed the feel of the keys under my fingers. Later, shortly after Tanya's disappearance, I picked up a guitar that Carlisle had lying around that he never really seemed to play, and found I had a knack for that as well. Before I knew it, Esme had added guitar lessons to my weekly schedule. Both served their purpose in helping me fill long hours of self-imposed solitude during my youth and adolescence as I worked through the grief of losing Tanya. I've managed to keep up with both over the years.

Lost in the music, I don't hear the door, and am surprised when I look up from the keyboard, and see Bella standing across the room looking every bit as gorgeous as the first night I laid eyes on her in hotel corridor in Abu Dhabi. More so, perhaps, she looks magnificent in blue. In my surprise, the keys fall silent.

"Don't stop on my account. It sounded lovely. You're a man of many talents aren't you, English?"

She looks so breathtaking standing there that she's effectively rendered me mum. She crosses the room and stands beside me.

"You look beautiful, Bella."

She smiles at me, raises her hand to my chin, and gently closes my mouth, which I didn't even realize was gaping, "Thank you, English. You'd better close that. You'll catch flies."

"Doubtful. Flies are dormant this time of year."

This makes me chuckle. "You're a walking encyclopedia, aren't you? Having you around is like having my own personal human google monster."

I quirk my eyebrow in reply, "google monster?"

She nods, "Yep. Human search engine. That may actually come in handy."

"Delighted to be of service."

I shake my head in disbelief, and stare at the beautiful and utterly absurd woman standing before me as she kicks off her shoes, and picks them up, and turns away from me, "I think after that bit of illuminating repartee, it's time for a drink. Sangria?"

I watch her hips sway enticingly as she heads for the kitchen, "Starting before the guests arrive?"

"Desperate times, English…desperate times!" she calls over her shoulder.

Bella lays her shoes on the barstool that is pulled up to the kitchen counter, heads for the fridge, and pulls out a large pitcher of sangria. She fills two wine glasses with the concoction, and motions for me to join her. She offers me a glass and raises hers. "A toast?"

"To what shall we toast?"

"Hmmm…how about to being lost in translation?"

"That's as good a reason as any. We could toast to effective teamwork"

"Alrighty then, to effective teamwork being lost in translation. Cheers!"

I shake my head and laugh under my breath, "Cheers!"

We clink our glasses as custom dictates, and both drink a bit too deeply. I set my glass on the counter, pull out a barstool, and sit, "We really should pace ourselves. It's going to be a long evening."

She quirks her eyebrow upward, her face taking on this funny expression, and quips in this sexy, sultry voice that is not her own, "Don't be silly, the important drinking hasn't begun yet."

It is now my turn to quirk my eyebrow back at her, "Important drinking?"

She takes another sip of her sangria and laughs, "Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman? Notorious?"

"Sorry, I must have missed that one."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Just then, there's a knock at the door, so Bella rushes over in her stocking-clad feet and answers the door, greeting Alice and Jasper.

BPOV

Alice and Jasper arrive interrupting an utterly bizarre exchange between Edward and me. Alice is effusive, and dressed to the nines making me feel like I've just rolled out of bed and rummaged through the laundry hamper. She's a tad overdressed for the occasion, but that's Alice.

Upon entering the penthouse, Alice grabs me into a hug and kisses me on both cheeks before I can greet them properly.

"You look magnificent, Bella! No one wears vintage quite like you. You're timeless, darling, but what have you done with those magnificent shoes? Don't tell me that…."

I laugh in response and cut her off, "And you are fashion-forward and fabulous as ever, Ali. The shoes are on the barstool. I'm just giving my toes a little time off for good behavior"

Alice rolls her eyes at me, but doesn't comment further on my shoeless feet. Then, she spontaneously does a pirouette showing off all angles of the short, black, swing coat dress and black intricate lace leggings. "This is a fabulous ensemble, isn't it? This seemed the perfect occasion to pay my respects to the passing of a creative genius."

"Creative genius, Ali?"

Jasper looks amused as if this is not the first time that he's heard this little soliloquy, nods to me in greeting acknowledging that he's not about to get a word in edgewise, and moves over to join Edward by the sangria.

In a lowered voice that conveys profound deference, Alice continues, "Oh yes. Alexander McQueen, darling. Didn't you hear? I am inconsolable."

I whisper in response, "Yes, that was so incredibly tragic and sad. However, it would appear that Jasper is doing a fine job of consoling you."

"That he is, but he's just in it for the leggings and the short skirt. He's very partial to the lace leggings," she whispers back.

"I'll bet he is, and I highly doubt he's just in it for your short skirt given the way he can't take his eyes off of you."

Alice beams, "Do you really think so, Belly?" Her face falls a little and she lowers her voice a little, "I mean, of course, I know that we are a foregone conclusion, but what if I'm wrong this time?"

"Ali, you're never wrong. I'd never bet against you."

Alice hugs me again. "Thank you, Belly."

"You're welcome, Ali. Incidentally, how is it that you've managed to find time to go shopping in the short time we've been in town, especially when you and Walker, Texas Ranger, over there have been joined at the hip?"

"Well, shopping is in my job description, and Jaz is a surprisingly patient shopping companion. Wait until you see the things I've gotten for your honeymoon! Your trousseau alone is amazing. I've outdone myself!"

Before I can respond and register my outrage, Emmett bounds through the door with the rest of the guys on our joint team. Curiously, I notice that Angela and Ben are conspicuously absent. Not only that, Carlisle and Rosalie are also nowhere in sight. The boys are a bit raucous, and I suspect that they've stopped off at a pub on their way to the party. I quickly go and pick up my shoes and slide into them.

"I'm starving!" Mike exclaims.

"You're always starving, Mike!" I quip back.

"It smells great in here, B!" Emmett booms.

"Thanks, Em. Why don't you guys help yourselves to sangria? There's also assorted tapas on the table. I'll get the Spanish omelet from the warming drawer and put it on the table now. Then, I need to put the finishing touches on the paella."

Edward must've heard me, because he wordlessly gets up goes to the kitchen, and pulls out the platters containing the wedges of Spanish omelet, and adds them to the table. I catch his eye, and mouth a silent thank you to him. Edward responds with a wink that makes my stomach flutter. That man may very well be the key to my demise. Damn traitorous body! Damn T-Squared! Remember the mantra…remember the mantra.

The boys are already making themselves at home eagerly helping themselves to food and drink.

"B, can I have a word?" Emmett inquires.

"Sure, Em." I nod and follow him down the hallway. "What is it?"

"Things are moving forward very quickly, now. I wasn't sure when I'd get another opportunity, so I wanted to be sure that we touched base tonight."

"What do you need, Em?"

"I saw that little silent exchange between you and Edward. How are you and the Brit doing, B?"

"Could be worse, I suppose. I'm still not confident in his field abilities; he drives like a flipping maniac; and communication between us seems to be a bit of an issue." Thinking back to his display at the housewares store, I add, "He also has these annoying bursts of testosterone-fueled caveman antics. That could get old, especially if he gets in my way when we're in the field. Other than that, he's companionable in a market and is a decent sous chef. That's really all I know of him at this point." Well, that and he smells delectable, and every time he smirks at me I have this barely controllable urge to drop trou. Yeah, Em definitely doesn't need briefed on those particular details. Remember the mantra, Bella.

"Well, that's better than I expected, actually."

"What do you mean by that, Em?"

"I mean that I thought that you were going to eat the poor man for lunch, B. We both know how you can be."

"Oh? Isn't that a bit of pot and kettle? How does it feel to have Butcher Barbie feasting on your bones at every turn, Farmboy?"

"Her name is Rosalie, B. I suggest that you use it, and if you cannot manage that, then Special Agent Hale will do just as well."

"Wow, Em. I wasn't expecting this."

"Expecting what?" Emmett asks looking wary.

"I wasn't expecting you to fall prey to the English rose. Be careful there, pal. She's a beauty; there's no doubt, but mark my words, that one has wicked thorns. I have no doubt she'd not hesitate to draw blood. Just watch yourself, Em. If I'm in the field I don't think Alice will be able to rescue you."

"B, your concern is touching, but misplaced. Special Agent Hale and I are working out sharing leadership of the team, but there is nothing more to the camaraderie, albeit as tenuous as it is, at that."

I can't help but laugh, because I can't quite tell whether he's trying to convince me or himself of this bullshit. "Keep telling yourself that, pal."

I can't help but tease him a bit, "I think you liiiiiiike her. I think you want to daaaaaate her, kiss her and maaaarry her."

Emmett scoffs, "Quit channeling Gracie Hart. It doesn't suit you. You watch too many fucking movies, B. We need to see about getting you a life!"

I sigh, "I have a life, Emmett. In fact, I have a very full life. It may not be conventional, but it's a life, nonetheless. Lay off."

Emmett nods. "Look, I didn't call you aside to argue with you, B."

"Why did you call me aside, Em?"

"I have something for you." With that he holds up a tiny silver charm of a ladybug and grasps my wrist, and attaches the ladybug charm to my bracelet.

Before I can inquire, he continues, "Ladybugs are good luck and symbolize protection and friendship. This particular little ladybug contains a small GPS microchip that will enable us to get a lock on you and Edward no matter where the op takes you. This will enable us to mobilize resources quickly should we need to evacuate you in case of emergency. You're not alone, B. You're never alone. Remember that. We won't let you down. I won't let you down. No matter what, wear that bracelet always."

I feel myself choking up a bit, and fight against letting any emotion show, "Thanks, Em. I hope I don't let you down. I'll wear the bracelet, I promise."

Emmett nods and squeezes my shoulder, and pulls me into a big bear hug squeezing the breath out of me, apparently at a loss for words. "We should rejoin the party. I think we might be missed, and the natives might get restless if you don't feed them soon!"

"Well, they do have tapas, but I should get the seafood into the paella, and get it ready to serve."

"Fair enough, B. Go see to our guests. This is a party, after all. In fact, I see a glass of sangria that has my name all over it!"

Emmett and I return to the party. Oddly, I think I notice Edward eyeing Emmett and me as we return to the group, but I dismiss it as my overactive imagination. Immediately, when we rejoin the festivities, I notice that Angela and Ben have joined the group as have Rosalie and Carlisle. Well, well, well…the gang's all here.

I make my way to the kitchen, kick off my shoes, and add the seafood to the paella, bring it all up to temperature, and watch carefully to be sure that it cooks through perfectly. As the dish finishes, I garnish liberally with fresh parsley across both pans. When I turn to move the pans to the table, Edward is right behind me with dishtowels in hand ready to help me. What is it with this guy? He's too damn smooth for his own good. He's a bit like a golden retriever: a bit too eager and earnest.

As everyone digs into the paella, I return to the kitchen to retrieve the flans for dessert. Once again, Edward appears on my heels, and helps me cart dessert into the dining area of the flat. He really is like a golden retriever: always underfoot. This is going to take some getting used to, certainly! Holy Fucking Hell!

I slide the stilts back onto my feet, start a nice Columbian dark roast coffee to accompany the flan, and I set out more sangria which seems to be the crowd favorite.

EPOV

I can't help feeling a bit unsettled after witnessing that intimate little tête-à-tête between Bella and Emmett McCarty. Supervisors generally do not give their subordinates jewellery, or appear as cozy as those two appear. There's something more to that relationship, and I don't like it.

I stand off to the side observing as everyone gathers around the large table where Bella and I have laid the buffet and fill their plates. Nursing my drink, I find myself preoccupied with listening in on a quiet little side spat that Rosalie and Emmett seem to be having.

"You know, McCarty, this dinner was supposed to be a team building activity. As one of the leaders of this team, you would do well to mix with all members of the team, rather than cuddling in the corridor with Agent Swan." Rosalie spits. Well, well, well…Rose noticed that as well.

"Why Rosie, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous!"

"Jealous. Don't be absurd. I'm just reminding you of your responsibilities to the team and this mission."

"I am very well-aware of my responsibilities, Blondie. You need to loosen up, woman. Let's get you a drink."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, so you can stage a coup, McCarty?"

Emmett's laugher booms through the room, "I wouldn't dream of it, Blondie. Come on, you're off the clock."

The two continue bickering as they head toward the sangria. Will their handbags never cease?

Just as I am about to make my way to the buffet to fill a plate, I noticed my father making a beeline for Bella. Oh bugger all! This is going to be arse about face. I should have mentioned dinner with Mum to Beauty, and now, Carlisle is going to spring it on her. Not wanting to miss this exchange, I position myself strategically as my father extends a dinner invitation for both us at my family home.

"Edward. I was just telling Bella how lovely everything is. The food is delicious. Well done. Everyone seems to be getting on quite well."

"Well, everyone except for our fearless leaders." Bella quips.

Neither Carlisle nor I can't help but laugh at that. Bella really is quite perceptive. She's noticed the tension between Emmett and Rosalie as well.

My father responds, "They're just coming to a meeting of the minds. They'll get it sorted."

To which I can't help but add, "Or off each other in the process!"

"Well, let us hope it doesn't lead to that." Carlisle replies.

Bella adds, "Hope does spring eternal!"

We all laugh at that, and Carlisle changes the subject, "I hate to do this, but your mother is waiting at home, and I need to get going."

Bella chimes in, "Oh! Well, let me make up a plate for her."

"That's very kind of you, Bella, but I'm quite sure she's already eaten. However, I'm sure Edward has mentioned that Esme and I would like to reciprocate, and have the two of you over for dinner tomorrow night."

Bella's demeanor is calm and cool, but I sense a flicker of what can only be panic flash in her eyes as she looks from Carlisle to me, "Dinner?"

My father gives me look that clearly communicates he's displeased that I've not yet invited Beauty to dinner. "Yes, I do hope that you'll be able to make it."

Betraying nothing, Bella replies, "Of course, that sounds, lovely."

Carlisle says his goodbyes and makes his way out the door, but not without Bella managing to slip him two pieces of flan before he makes his exit. I watch him thank her, and disappear just as the party seems to get louder obviously due to the entire team being on the piss.

Bella leans in and whispers, "You could have given me a heads up about dinner with your mother, English!"

Running my hand through my hair nervously, "Well, there wasn't really a good time. Don't worry. Mum will adore you."

Bella eyes me skeptically, "That's really beside the point."

Wishing to change the subject, I counter, "You need to eat. You've not eaten anything all night."

"Nice segue, Cyrano. I could say the same of you."

"Well come on then, let's get something to eat before the boys start licking the platters."

BPOV

Still reeling from the thought of dinner with Edward's parents, I opt to take the Scarlett O'Hara approach to that particular social engagement. I will deal with that tomorrow: for tomorrow is another day! Edward and I fix ourselves plates, and have a bite to eat. As we finish, I notice that everyone is done eating, and happily enjoying the sangria and flan, so I opt to clean away some of the plates, and get them in the dishwasher, so we don't have a total mess at the end of the evening. Arms full, I head for the kitchen, kick those blasted shoes off again, and set to work. As I'm rinsing and loading dishes in the dishwasher, Edward trails in behind me carrying more dishes.

"I thought you'd be entertaining the masses, Liberace."

He shakes his head at me in that way he does, "Yes, well, not gay. Press the point, and I'll think you are angling for me to prove it to you! As happens, I thought you could use some help."

Perhaps it is the sangria, but that catches me off guard, and I stare intently at the dish I'm rinsing, not quite sure how to respond to him. I feel my cheeks flush pink, and I hope that he doesn't notice since I'm turned away from him loading the dishwasher. Ice water. Veins. Head in the game, Bella. Clearly, Rosalie and Emmett are not the only ones who are feeling emboldened by liquid courage.

I place a plate in the dishwasher, and reach out to take the plates he's holding, and smile up at him, "Thank you for your help, Edward. That's very thoughtful of you."

I notice a peculiar expression pass over his face as if he's trying to figure out what just happened. In truth, once again, I just needed to put a little distance between us. He smiles back at me with one of those blinding, genuine infectious grins, "The pleasure is mine, Bella."

Well this isn't awkward. Nope, not at all. Not a bit.

I return to the sink, and he clears his throat, "There's been something I've been meaning to discuss with you. What I mean to say is that I have something for you."

I look up surprised, "What is it?"

Suddenly, he looks a bit green around the gills and extremely uncomfortable. He starts, "I know ours is an extremely unconventional union. Yet and still, there are some customs that should be observed, nonetheless. There is a small matter of wedding rings."

With that, he pulls out a clearly-aged, small, familiar-shaped box that can only contain rings, and before he can open the box, or continue, I pull the chain out from beneath the neckline of my dress, and reveal Jake's rings.

"No worries, English. I've got this covered, at least on my end. I suppose we should start wearing them, shouldn't we? Do you have your ring covered?"

He looks at me speculatively, and something dark and unreadable passes across his face. It's only there for a moment, and then, it is gone. He recovers, and pockets the box, "Covered, you say?"

"Covered. Do you have a wedding band for yourself, because I only have these?"

"Of course." His terse response startles me. How could he possibly have a problem with my rings?

He holds out his hand, and fingers the ladybug charm that Emmett had given me earlier in the evening. "It is a bit curious that you'll accept a gift of jewelry from Emmett, yet, you won't accept these rings from me. Why is that?"

What an odd thing for him to say. Why on earth would I accept gifts, especially jewelry from a virtual stranger? "Well, Emmett is my boss. He's seen me through some tough times, and we've been friends for a very long time. He's more like a big brother than a boss. Your dossier probably told you that, though, didn't it?" I can't manage to disguise the annoyance in my voice, "Besides, it wasn't so much a gift as a long leash."

"A long leash?"

"Yes, as in, a rope or chain that is usually used when walking a dog."

He rolls his eyes in response, "I do happen to know what a leash is. Why on earth would you compare yourself to a dog? Did he…?" His clear annoyance at my teasing seems to turn into something else that I can't quite discern.

I can't help but laugh. Our ability to communicate is not improving, "No! Absolutely not, I'd have decked him if he had. It is a charm for my charm bracelet that is fitted with a tiny GPS microchip. It is a fail-safe for us, of sorts."

"I see. Well, it is a lovely little fail-safe, at that." He fingers the charm again, and looks down at me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You know, in Chinese symbolism the ladybug is very auspicious and considered exceedingly good luck. Asian lore indicates if a ladybug lands on your clothing, your true love is sure to come to call, and the number of spots on the ladybug is an indication of how many months will pass until you will encounter your true love." He looks closer, "It looks like this ladybug has only three spots."

Damnit! T-Squared has rendered me speechless again. Head in the game, Bella. Once again, needing distance, I pull my hand away and resume rinsing plates and putting them into the dishwasher. Regaining my composure, I respond with the first thing that pops into my head, "Well, in my neck of the woods, ladybugs symbolize friendship and protection. You're right about the good luck part, though." Suddenly, I realize that I sound like a petulant child, and I stomp my foot in frustration before it occurs to me that is only making matters worse.

He smirks in response and tilts his head in a way that I fear may just make my heart stop, "At least, you missed my foot that time. As for the charm, it won't hurt to have a bit of good luck on our side with what's ahead for us, but none of that explains why you won't accept these rings. They're perfectly lovely rings. Antiques. From a very reputable London jeweler, I assure you. They are fitting for the assignment, and they match the men's band. I don't see the issue."

"There is no issue. I have my own rings. There's no need to use those." His insistence is beginning to make me squirm. What is the big deal about these damn rings? Can't he just let it go?

"Generally, the custom is that a man presents his betrothed with rings. Is it not?"

"That aside, we've only just met, and this is an assignment, not a betrothal, English. You're moving a bit fast there, Speed Racer."

Oddly, I think he might have flinched ever so slightly in response to that remark, "You're going to have to become a bit better actress for this arrangement to work. True, we have only just met, but we are posing as a pair of blissful newlyweds. Are we not? And Speed Racer? Dare I ask?"

Before I can respond, Alice bounds into the room with Jasper faithfully at her side. Both have clearly been enjoying the sangria. "Edward! Jasper tells me that you play the piano!"

"And the guitar." Jasper adds, as if finishing her sentence. Already finishing each other's sentences. How many hours have we been in town? Speaking of betrothals, I wonder if she'll send the wedding invitation to me while we're in the field.

Before he can even begin to protest, Alice latches onto Edward's arm and begins tugging him over to the piano, and yells loudly, "Edward is going to treat us to a bit of a concert, everyone."

Edward looks back over his shoulder, and gives me a look that tells me our conversation isn't even remotely in the realm of being finished. Once again, as I have many times since I've met her, I send up a silent little prayer of thanks for Alice. Jasper looks at me, and shrugs his shoulders. I can tell he's had his share of sangria, and he's working on draining the glass he's currently holding. He smiles an easy and charming smile as I hear Edward begin to play in the next room.

Jasper eyes me speculatively as if he's sizing me up, "How are you adjusting? Are you and Edward getting along?"

I sigh as I put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, "Fine, I suppose. Communication is a bit of an issue."

Jasper laughs out loud, "I'm sure that it is! I'm sure you'll manage, though. I've gotten to know Edward pretty well since I've been stationed in London. He's a good buddy as well as a fine colleague. Edward is a good man, Bella, and a top-notch asset, among the best. We couldn't have picked two better assets for this assignment. You'll make a great team. I guar-un-tee it!"

He draws out the syllables as if he is imitating Cajun chef, Justin Wilson, and I can't help but laugh. "If you say so…you know, I haven't had a partner in a long time, Jasper."

"Well, Edward has never had partner in the field, period. Matter of fact, he's never been one much for partnerships off the job, either, if you know what I mean. He was more of a…man about town…shall we say."

"So, you're saying that he was sleeping with half of it? Now, why doesn't that surprise me?"

Jasper laughs in response, "That's one way of putting it, but he is a consummate professional, and he won't let anything jeopardize this mission. I'm sure this arrangement will be an adjustment for both of you, but you'll work it out. Trust me. If you can't trust me, trust Alice. That girl has a knack for knowing the unknowable."

Suddenly, I feel strangely comforted by Jasper's mere presence. It's nice. I can see how Alice was so completely charmed by him.

"Speaking of that, it seems that you two have picked right back up where you left off years ago."

He glances sideways seemingly curious as to what I'm asking. "Yes. We have. Alice is a great girl."

That isn't even remotely good enough for me, so I turn and square-off facing him head-on, crossing my arms over my chest, "Look, Jasper. I know we don't know each other, but that woman is my dearest friend. If your intentions aren't…"

Jasper lays a single finger over my lips, effectively silencing me, "Save it, Sparky. I assure you that my intentions toward Ms. Brandon are wholly honorable. She is extremely fortunate to have such a loyal and protective friend such as you. You don't have to worry, I'll take good care of her, I promise."

With that I refill both of our glasses, and raise mine to him, "That's all I needed to hear, Jaz."

We toast, and he puts his arm around me in his easy way, "Come on, Sparky. Enough with the chores, let's go listen to ol' Jerry Lee Lewis in there."

I slip my feet back into my shoes, and we stroll in and join the party, and I link arms with Alice who looks a bit like she did at the end of our girls' night. It's a good thing Jaz is such a healthy specimen. He may be carrying Ali to bed tonight! We listen as Edward plays, and everyone chats and continues drinking around the piano.

Finishing this peppy ragtime tune, Edward looks up from the keyboard looking oddly shy or sheepish, and inquires, "Requests?"

Clearly, having had a bit too much sangria, both Emmett and Jasper hold up lighters, flames a-blazing.

Jasper yells, "Skynard! Play some Skynard, man!"

Emmett laughs and hollers, "FREEBIRD! Play us some FREEBIRD."

Damn Southern boys! They always have to show themselves to company!

I watch as both their jaws drop open when Edward's fingers float effortlessly over the keyboard treating us to the opening strains of Lynyrd Skynard's Freebird. Then, my jaw drops when he opens his mouth and I hear his velvety baritone croon, "If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me…"

Holy Fucking Hell! I am transfixed. Will this man ever cease to surprise me? How does an English public schoolboy know letter and verse of an American southern rock anthem? There is clearly more to T-Squared than meets the eye. Color me, albeit grudgingly, impressed. Now, if he busts out a rousing rendition of Sweet Home Alabama, Alice and Angela will have to pick me up off these expensive Italian marble tiles. What was that mantra, again?

a/n –

BritSpeak:

ARSE ABOUT FACE: Doing something back to front, or bass ackwards/ass backwards.

HANDBAGS: A harmless fight usually between women, but apparently dates back to the 1980s when Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister bossing her all male all Old Etonian cabinet.

ON THE PISS: Getting drunk

PUBLIC SCHOOL vs. STATE SCHOOL: In the UK, public schools are fee-paying schools, or the equivalent to what we call private school. State schools are government-funded, and akin to our public schools. However, not all fee-paying schools are considered public schools. There is a long tradition among public schools, and they tend to appeal the more affluent.

For those not acquainted with Gracie Hart: http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=JB9l3B6dWS8&NR=1

By now you know that OLR doesn't roll without the Oz posse: Kristi28 (Ms. Betalicious), laurasfirsttime (OLR webmistress/best ficsis around and all around crafty bone), unconditionally (our lovable wussperv-in-residence), and wonderful pre-readers: jenniferlyn. 215 (Our BoA maestro and Tin(wo)Man), MrsTheKing (Our Oz, of course), distant. dream118 (not only a munchkin, but my fic soulmate), and jslack (well, as author of Vegas Baby, she's keeper of the gates of the Emerald City, of course). I adore each and every one of these fabulous women, and we wouldn't be on this journey without them.

myimm0rtal validates OLR on Twi'd, and is equally fab.

Edwardia Maven keeps me honest with all things British. OLR wouldn't be what it is without her careful eye, and attention to detail. Thank you will never, ever be enough.

Because I am a writing fool at the moment trying hard to catch up for you all, my do-not-pass-GO, do-not-collect $200 fic rec for this week comes to us from an OLR reader, EdBellaFan. It is called Some Life in Me by Pinkpixiechick on FF or just Pixiechick on Twi'd. I have to come clean and let you know that I've only read the summary and the first few paragraphs so far, but when EdBellaFan rec'd it to me I **knew** it had to be good. Enjoy!

Until soon, my pretties!

xoxo,

drs